Jonathan Wright

Thursday, 24 October 2013

Two
people (out of several hundred who disagreed) said yesterday that
Aswany had a point in his critique of my work. I've been over it very
carefully, like a real nerd, and have prepared an annotated breakdown.
It's not of great interest to non-specialists but it does bring up some
interesting points. To be brutally honest, my conclusion is that there
was one minor error ('once again' instead of 'one last time') and one
minor omission - 'every time'). The rest of it is bunk. It's here:

Wednesday, 23 October 2013

For
the sake of fellow translators who might find themselves caught up in
similar circumstances and because I do not think that abuses should
go unnoticed, I would like to lay out the facts surrounding the
project to produce an English version of The
Automobile Club of Egypt,
the latest novel by well-known Egyptian writer Alaa el-Aswany.
Firstly, I should say that I am not of an argumentative or litigious
nature and have never before had any dispute with any of the authors
or publishers of the eight of so books I have translated over the
last few years. On the contrary, my experience of life is that, if
you have a strong case and are willing to press it, your opponent
usually gives way. That's because, to paraphrase Descartes, a sense
of justice
is the most fairly distributed thing in the world, since no one ever
desired more of it than they already have.

So when Aswany unilaterally and whimsically withdrew from an
agreement arranged between me and his publishers, I assumed he would
offer his apologies, honor his obligations and make speedy and
generous compensation for the time and effort I had expended on his
behalf. The more so since Dr Aswany and I are hardly strangers. I
have met him many times, interviewed him on two occasions for
television and he and his wife have visited me for lunches and
dinners at home in Cairo and at my country house in Fayoum on two or
three occasions. We had worked together since 2009 on his political
writings, specifically the weekly columns he wrote for Egyptian
newspapers, the English version of which I prepared for international
syndication. He was always pleased with my work and I had great
respect for the brave position he took against police brutality in
the last years of the Mubarak regime, against plans to install
Mubarak's son Gamal as his successor and then against the military
rulers who ruled Egypt up to June 2012. I remember meeting him in
Tahrir Square in February 2011 as he shouted in outrage that police
snipers were shooting at the crowd from somewhere near the Interior
Ministry. After the revolution, I worked on a volume of his articles,
The
State of Egypt,
which won good reviews and sold well in the English-speaking world.
When the literary elite belittled Aswany's novels, I always stood up
for him, arguing that Egypt and the Arab world in general needed good
story-tellers who put plot and character ahead of literary
ostentation and obsessive self-analysis. I said there was room for
everyone, and that Aswany filled a gaping hole.

I can no longer feel the same way about Dr Aswany, especially in
his private capacity as an individual with social obligations towards
those around him. The least I can say is that he is not an honorable
man. But let others be the judge, as I explain the origins of our
dispute:

In August 2012, I was approached
by the American University in Cairo (AUC) Press, with whom I have an
amicable working relationship dating back some years, to see if I
would be interested in handling the English version of Aswany's
novel, The Automobile Club of Egypt, which he was then
planning to finish by the end of November. I said I would be pleased
to take it on.

I communicated with Dr Aswany about the
book on and off between September 2012 and February 2013,
mainly to get a clearer idea of when it would be ready. This was
against the background of AUC Press telling me that they intended to
recommend me as the translator, with Dr Aswany's knowledge and
approval.

On February 15, I sent Dr Aswany
an email, saying, “Do let me know how you are progressing with
The Automobile Club. I'm looking forward to seeing a copy and
starting work on it.” He replied, “I finished already the
novel I will send the Arabic version next week to my agent Andrew
Wylie. He asked me to have the text first and then he will send it to
the publishers. I think you will have the text through Wylie very
soon.”

On February 20, AUC Press sent
me the complete Arabic text of the novel and asked me to prepare a 15
to 20-page sample for submission to the New York-based publishers
Knopf Doubleday, saying they would need to approve the sample before
we went ahead with the project.

On February 27, I submitted an
8,600-word sample to AUC Press.

On March 14, AUC Press sent me
an email, saying that Knopf has studied the sample and had agreed to
go ahead with the translation. It then laid out the basics of what
would become our contract – payment, deadlines etc.

On March 27, George Andreou,
an editor at Knopf, sent me an email, saying,
“I am writing to introduce myself as Dr Alaa’s editor at Knopf
and to say how pleased I am that you have accepted the commission to
translate his new book. I look forward to working with you on the
editing of the English version. In the meanwhile, if I can answer any
questions, please don’t hesitate to be in touch.”
I said he could help by expediting the contract process.

On
April
11,
I reminded Mr Andreou of the contract and he replied,
“It
has been ordered. Sorry for the delay. We’ll be back in touch
shortly as to when you might expect it.” The
same day Jahua Kim of Knopf emailed me, saying, “There
is a backlog in the contracts department at the moment, but we should
have your contract ready in about a week. Please feel free to reach
me if you have further questions.”

On
April
25,
Dr Aswany sent me a message, saying he thanked me for my “efforts
translating the Automobile Club”
and asked if I had any questions. I replied that I was making good
progress but I would prefer to ask my questions all at once at a
later stage. His assistant replied, “Dr.
Alaa is glad you are working on it currently … and he will be very
willing to help anytime.”

On
May
1,
William Shannon of Knopf finally sent me a contract (for text,
ctrl-click here
and here),
with a covering note saying, “If
the agreement looks in order please print out and sign three copies
and return signed copies to Juhea Kim in George Andreou’s office.”
I returned the copies as requested, both as signed and scanned JPEGs
by email and as hard copy by mail.

On
May
11,
I received an email from Dr Aswany's agent, Andrew Wylie, saying, “On
further reflection . . . and in consultation with Dr Alaa and with
Knopf, we are obliged to withdraw the request for you to translate
the novel.”
The message gave no substantial explanation. I replied that I had
already signed a contract and done a large several months of work on
the project. I said Dr Aswany was free to choose another translator
but Knopf and/or Dr Aswany had an obligation to pay me for the work I
had done and for the time I would have wasted.

On
May
12,
Dr Aswany sent me an email, his only message ever on this matter,
despite he long acquaintance and amicable relations. He said he
wanted Mr X (his identity is irrelevant) to work on The
Automobile Club.
The explanation he offered for his decision was “I
think you could understand that I feel comfortable to work with him.”
He blamed AUC Press for what he called a misunderstanding and said he
wasn't aware I was working on it (although we had in fact discussed
it openly several times). At this stage Aswany had not seen the
sample submitted to Knopf in February. But he now asked for a sample
translation and, strangely, also proposed giving Mr X a role editing
my translation. I sent him the 8,600-word sample that Knopf had
approved.

The
next day, on May
13,
Charles Buchan of the Wylie Agency sent me a message dictated by
Andrew Wylie, saying,
“Alaa Al Aswany has reviewed the opening pages of your translation
of THE AUTOMOBILE CLUB, and he has found the translation
unsatisfactory... The book will be translated by Mr X. I have
notified AUC and Knopf accordingly.”
Dr Aswany and his assistant had spent several hours overnight poring
over the sample text, trying to identify aspects that they thought
they might plausibly present as 'mistakes', apparently to justify
retoractively their decision to withdraw from the contract. They were
a little overenthusiastic and their efforts are risible. If anyone is
interested in the details, the whole document is available here.
The relevant Arabic text and the relevant part of the English version
are availablehere
andhere.

The
document, which was circulated to several people, contains remarks
that would be defamatory under British law. One of the most
outrageous is Aswany's objection to the spelling Fatiha
for the first chapter of the Quran. Fatiha is of course the standard
transliteration favoured by most academics and publishers. He writes:
“Mr.Wright
wrote 'Fatiha' instead of 'Fatha'. The 'Fatha' is the most famous
Muslim prayer and the only explanation of this mistake is that Mr.
Wright is not able to read this very famous word correctly in
Arabic.” The document continues in similar vein. I particularly
admired Aswany's ingenuity when he objected to 'I felt lonely' for
the Arabic 'aHsastu bil-wiHsha'. He would prefer 'I felt solitude'.
He insists on placing chalets rather than beach houses on the
Mediterranean coast. No big deal, but it might give readers the
impression they are in the Swiss Alps. The list goes on. But the
bigger picture is that Aswany and his assistant appear to think that
a translation must match the original word by word, with nouns
replacing nouns and so on. Or perhaps they don't really think that:
maybe they just thought it would be a good wheeze to avoid their
financial obligations under an inconvenient agreement. If Hell
exists, I assume it has a special corner for those who bear false
witness against their colleagues for the sake of financial gain.

To
continue the story: on May
21,
Mr Andreou, in a rare moment of honesty from Knopf in the course of
various exchanges, wrote to me saying, “As
you know, I was content with your sample. It is simply not feasible,
however, for us, as Dr Aswany’s publisher, to proceed with an
arrangement that displeases him: author's (sic)
have their prerogatives.”
In other words, his justification for withdrawing from the agreement
was based on the decision of the author, which itself appears to have
been based on a whim.He
offered me a small amount in compensation, and I said his offer was
inadequate.

After
a series of exchanges over the proportion of the work completed,
Knopf has ignored my proposal, now about one month old, that we
choose an independent arbiter to make an assessment - an idea that
strikes me as eminently reasonable.

Knopf
has argued that we never had an agreement because I do not have a
contract signed by them (they never sent me a signed copy), and that
therefore their offer is ex
gratia.
My legal advice is that this argument is baseless and that all the
elements of an agreement exist. The contract makes no provision for
unilateral withdrawal and the only quality provision refers to a
final text to be submitted in September 2013, which will never be
completed. On October
15,
Knopf tried a new approach, alleging that it never even approved the
sample translation submitted in February. This is what in plain
English we call a lie and, as I noted above, Mr Andreou said the
opposite on May 21.

I
did have one further exchange with Dr Aswany, when I informed him on
May 22 that until our dispute was resolved I could no longer
translate his political articles. His response illustrates his
attitude to those he deals with. His only concern that my
'unprofessional' decision, which he didn't appear to expect, had
disrupted the worldwide distribution of one short article. Under
ordinary circumstances, he said, he would have withheld the money I
was owed for previous articles – a total of about $600. “Despite
all this, I will arrange to give you your money, because I believe I
should behave well to the end,” he added.

Thank
you, Dr Aswany, you are very gracious, but you have not behaved well.
In fact, your behavior has been despicable.

Aswany can be contacted at dralaa57@yahoo.com

The editor-in-chief at Knopf is Sonny Mehta, contactable at smehta@randomhouse.com

Saturday, 12 October 2013

1.1 In the new Egypt, where the
Muslim Brotherhood and other Islamists are the targets of a broad and
massively popular campaign of arrest, exclusion and vilification,
it's fashionable to repeat the old mantra of the Egyptian security
state that religion and politics either are or should be separate
domains of human activity. Many of those who argue this case oppose the formation of political parties with overtly
religious or sectarian agendas. The arguments in favour of this
position include the following:

1.2.1 Religion and politics do not
mix because religion is about a human being's relationship with God
and with other human beings at the individual, personal level, and
not about the way society at large or the formal state is structured
and managed. God and/or the founders of Islam (or any other religion)
never intended their ideas to be the blueprint for any political
agenda.

1.2.2 Religion and politics do not
mix because giving religion a place in politics empowers the
traditional arbiters of religious orthodoxy, who are mostly a group
of reactionary, misogynistic, intolerant and puritanical men out of
touch with the 'modern' world and the needs and desires of ordinary
people.

1.2.3 Religion and politics do not
mix because giving religious hierarchies a political role could be
undemocratic because they might intervene in political decisions or
legislative deliberations on the basis of their understanding of
God's will, in contravention of the popular will as expressed in
elections or by other means.

1.2.4 Religion and politics do not
mix because political parties that advocate policies based on
religion (such as the imposition of some version of Islamic sharia,
for example) are socially divisive. Such parties automatically
exclude people of other faiths (in the Egyptian case, Christians,
Jews, Baha'is, atheists and so on).

1.2.5 Religion and politics do not
mix because those who use religious slogans, imagery and other
references in their political campaigning have an unfair advantage
over those who do not, because these references resonate powerfully
with ignorant, ill-educated people (whose votes have the same weight
as those of 'more rational' people)

2.1 At first sight, some of these
arguments might appear persuasive. They have certainly been common
currency in political discourse in Egypt and many other
Muslim-majority countries for many decades. The arguments do however
imply certain assumptions that advocates might not have thought out
thoroughly or articulated in public. These probably include the
following:

2.2.1 The assumption that God has no
interest in public affairs, that God sees a qualitative difference
between caring about those you know and caring about those members of
the wider community that you do not know. The implication is that God
wants you to be charitable to your neighbour, for example, but He
doesn't think you should take a position on whether the state spends
your tax money on health care or on palaces for the president. God
wants you to settle your differences with your mother-in-law amicably
but He doesn't care whether or not your state goes to war with a
neighbouring state.

2.2.2. The assumption that the
traditional religious hierarchy – monolithic and impervious to
change - represents either, at best, an unrealistic ideal that no
politician should even seek to attain or implement or, at worst, a
misguided and distorted version of the true will of God, that
religions make excessive demands on believers and for the sake of
expediency it is best to ignore or overrule religious prescriptions
that would complicate public life. The Muslim hierarchy condemns
interest payments, for example, but the need to be part of a world
economy that depends on interest overrides the ban that the hierarchy
would like to impose.

2.2.3 The assumption that sectarian
identities are rigid, with impermeable barriers, and that it is
undesirable to debate differences of opinion on religious matters in
public. Under this schema the religious hierarchy cannot be
challenged directly: the dissident believer's only recourse is to opt
out of the debate.

2.2.4 The assumption that political
parties should meet a higher standard of inclusivity than religious
groups, which may legitimately restrict their membership or their
message to people favourable to a certain ideology.

2.2.5 The assumption that there is
a qualitative difference between the political choices made by
religious people and those made by non-religious people, and that
emotional appeals to abstract non-religious principles or 'values' –
such as nationalism, class interest, social justice, liberation from
oppression, for example – are more acceptable than appeals to
religious sensibility.

3.1 I'm an agnostic, so I cannot
rule on the validity of, for example, assumption 2.2.1 (that God has
no interest in public affairs) or assumption 2.2.2 (that the
religious hierarchy is misguided). But when large numbers of people
accept these assumptions it has important implications for the health
and smooth functioning of society as a whole, in the following ways:

3.2.1 (in response to assumption 2.2.1)
Quietism, the belief that God wants us to withdraw from public life
and devote ourselves to prayer and meditation in seclusion, has a
place in most religions, certainly Islam and Christianity. But it is
the exception rather than the rule. When people in open societies
debate public issues with a moral dimension – abortion, for
example, or the death penalty, even taxation and national security –
their religious beliefs are bound to be factors in the debate. If
people choose to take their guidance on these matters from their
religious leaders, they should be free to do so. Even if their
religious beliefs, as formulated by those leaders, are the sole
determinant in the political decisions they take – for example, to
vote against easy abortion or stem cell research – they should not
feel compelled to 'invent' other, non-religious justifications for
their decisions. “The Pope says so” is a good enough reason.
People often make political decisions on grounds that might seem
trivial or thoughtless to others. In a free society where significant
numbers of people hold religious beliefs there is no practical
alternative to this approach. To argue that people must put their
religious beliefs aside when they take political decisions is an
absurdity.

3.2.2 (in response to assumption 2.2.2)
The possibility that religious hierarchies will make unrealistic
demands on the political choices of believers is real and can lead
to tensions in the public sphere. But in practice, even where
religious leaders have been given formal roles, in the constitution
for example, they have rarely dared to assert themselves politically
beyond what the public and politicians will bear. Religious leaders
who are also political actors tend to be acutely tuned to the level
of public support they can muster. If levels of religious belief
decline in society as a whole, religious leaders find it hard to
resist making doctrinal concessions designed to keep waverers within
their flock. In the end, it is believers who empower religious
leaders, not religious leaders who unilaterally impose orthodoxy. If
citizens disagree with religious leaders, they must have the courage
to speak out, not seek devious ways to silence or marginalize the
religious leaders.

3.2.3 (in response to argument 1.2.3)
The argument that religious leaders should not be allowed to overrule
the will of the people is a strong one, the best of all the reasons
cited above. But this represents an extreme case of religious
activism in the political sphere. It is in effect an argument against
giving religious leaders a veto over political decisions, not an
argument for denying them or their followers any voice in political
debate.

3.2.4 (in response to assumption 2.2.3)
Very few governments continue to impose sectarian identities on
their citizens. The governments of majority-Muslim countries are
unique in this regard, as far as I am aware. The practice whereby
Muslim citizens remain Muslim for life and their children inherit
their Muslimness is an outrageous violation of the rights of citizens
and should be abolished as soon as possible. Those who advocate
maintaining this system while simultaneously advocating the exclusion
of religion from politics are hypocrites and/or cowards. Abolition of
this system, a vestige of the Ottoman millet system, will
automatically make the religious hierarchies more responsive to the
beliefs of their followers, who would no longer be a captive
audience. It would go some way towards creating a free market-place
of ideas, where religions and other ideologies could compete for
adherents on a level playing field.

3.2.5 (in response to assumption
2.2.4) There are no objectively valid grounds for discriminating
between political parties with religious agendas and those with
wholly secular agendas. So many gradations between the two are
possible that any conceivable legislation that attempts to
discriminate must open the field to subjective and whimsical
interpretations of the law, which tend to bring the judicial system
into disrepute. Egypt's attempts in this area over the last three
years illustrate the impossibility of the task. Some Egyptian
advocates of excluding religion from politics continue nonetheless to
favour maintaining Islam as the country's state religion. This
contradiction undermines their case from the start. For political
purposes, religion is just another ideology. If religious rivals want
to take their disputes into the political arena they should be free
to do so, provided they refrain from violence or incitement to
violence, as in any country where the rule of law prevails. In
practice, political parties rarely choose to adopt exclusively
sectarian agendas, for the reason that they want to win as many votes
as possible.

3.2.6 (in response to assumption 2.2.5)
Similarly, attempts to exclude religious references from political
discourse are doomed to failure and will bring the judicial system
into disrepute. To take the simplest example, the old National
Democratic Party of Hosni Mubarak, although never actively Islamist,
always arranged that its candidates had the crescent moon as their
symbol on ballot papers. NDP organizers knew this gave them extra
votes because of the positive Islamic associations of the crescent
moon. Enforcing a ban on such religious references would require
thorough monitoring of all campaign literature and all campaign
speeches by all candidates – an unrealistic proposal. Besides, as
we discussed in 3.2.1, religious belief is a legitimate factor in
political decision-making.

4.1 In conclusion, the proposal to
exclude religion from politics is misguided and impractical. Many of
those who advocate this approach are likely to be people of vaguely
deistic beliefs who want to use the political system and the security
state to dilute the power of the religious hierarchies and reduce the
electoral impact of the political forces that advocate obedience to
those hierarchies. Even if one sympathizes with their long-term
goals, one must find fault with their approach, which looks like a
quick fix that seeks to achieve their objectives while conveniently
avoiding open confrontation with the views they oppose.

Thursday, 1 August 2013

Elite Angst in Sisi's Egypt

I doubt I'm alone among people with an
interest in Egypt in finding myself shocked in recent weeks by
the dramatic changes I've seen in many people I know. I'm talking
about people who used to hold liberal views, professed to believe in
democracy and the usual freedoms and respected the work of human
rights activists, for example. Many of these people are well-educated
and had travelled abroad and could see that Egypt had some serious
governance problems at the most basic level – corruption, waste,
cronyism, favouritism, negligence, inertia, lack of accountability
and so on. The vast majority of them supported the 2011 revolution
against Mubarak and looked forward to a fresh start that would try to
put their ideals into practice and redress some of the deficiencies
that were part of Mubarak's legacy.

The ones that have shocked me most
have been transformed into reactionary, intolerant, xenophobic,
chauvinistic and irrational people who advocate the repression,
exclusion and in some cases even the wholesale slaughter of their
political opponents. They have called for the closure of television
stations and newspapers whose editorial line does not please them,
and even for the arrest and prosecution of the people who work in
them. They are highly sensitive to criticism from non-Egyptian
individuals, institutions and governments, and in many cases have
started to dismiss out of hand such notions as democracy and human
rights. “We don't want 'your' democracy!” is a phrase I have
heard or read on numerous occasions this past month. On top of all
that, they have embraced with the fervour of converts an institution
that represents some of the worst aspects of late 20th
century Egypt – an army that is parasitical, unproductive,
wasteful, incompetent, class-ridden and ruthless in pursuit of its
commanders' corporate and private interests.

The other striking feature of this
group is that, unlike in 2011, they do not appear to have any vision
for how they would like Egypt to be, except in the most crude and
negative terms. The phrase 'We don't want your democracy', for
example, is not followed by proposals for improvements on the
imperfect models of democracy prevalent in other parts of the world.
Except for the previously unloved and now seriously compromised
Mohamed ElBaradei, they have no inspiring leaders of any stature, no
one with a high-minded long-term plan to turn Egypt into a
functioning democracy.

How to explain this sudden shift?

My initial hypothesis (and I
welcome any comment or input from others) is that many of these
people saw themselves as the natural rulers of Egypt and assumed that
once the dust settled after the 2011 revolution they would take their
rightful place at the top of the hierarchy. In 2011 advocacy of
democracy and human rights seemed like the best strategy for getting
rid of Mubarak and correcting some of the worst features of his
regime. Their liberalism won them foreign support and sympathy, and
enabled them to assemble a broad domestic alliance bringing together
groups that could not possibly aspire to political domination alone
but would have a fair chance of some influence under a democratic
system. They relished foreign approval at the time and many of them
looked forward to Egypt taking its place in the world as a respected
nation – a status it had signally failed to achieve under the
corrupt and incompetent rule of Mubarak. This broad coalition largely
held together through the first year of rule by SCAF, the Supreme
Council of the Armed Forces, though differences did emerge over the
extent to which people should challenge military rule.

The turning-point came when SCAF
started to organize elections, firstly for parliament and secondly
for a civilian president who would replace the generals. The various
Islamist groups, of course, won much more support in the elections
than people had expected and completely dominated the first
pro-revolutionary parliament, with more than 70 percent of the seats.

Looking back at the course of
events, and at the psychology of this elite demographic, we can detect during this period the first signs of serious alarm among Egypt's traditional rulers. It was at this stage that we started to hear complaints about the campaigning methods of the Muslim Brotherhood ('They tell people they'll go to heaven if they vote for the Brotherhood', 'They give them free sugar to win their votes') and references to the gullibility of the great unwashed. A well-known author openly questioned whether illiterate people should be allowed to vote at all (literacy tests were famously used in the southern United States to prevent black people from voting).

The Supreme Constitutional Court also took dramatic decisions that in effect undermined the popular will, dissolving the lower house of parliament on a tendentious technicality. The membership of the court was relatively diverse in conventional political terms but as a whole it certainly represented a traditional statist and elitist view of how the country should be run.

The second round of the presidential elections helped to bring the polarization into focus. Faced with a choice between Mohamed Morsi of the Muslim Brotherhood, which had no track record in government despite more than 80 years in the political arena, and Ahmed Shafik, a Mubarak associate who represented the traditional power system, about 15 percent of the electorate defected from candidates who embraced the 2011 revolution and voted instead for Shafik. Morsi won by 52 to 48 percent, a margin often described by the term 'wafer-thin' or other such adjectives, though decent enough by normal standards. That's about the same as Obama's margin in the 2012 elections.

During the one-year period between the time Morsi took office and the time the army overthrew Morsi on July 3, the Egyptian elite faced no particular crisis of ideology. They could attack the Brotherhood from a traditional liberal perspective, accusing the movement of harassing the independent media, imposing a constitution that served its own special interests and trying to plant its representatives in every key position in the bureaucracy. Some of their arguments were rather feeble, but the framework was familiar and they could still elicit some sympathy from their traditional allies in Europe and North America.

Everything changed with the army's intervention on July 3 and the welcome that this received from the main groups opposed to Morsi - the National Salvation Front (NSF) and the Tamarrud Movement.

Faced with the reality of an Islamist movement that has millions of supporters and that does not recognize the legitimacy of the new rulers, and with foreign commentators who are sceptical about the wisdom of using military force to overthrow elected leaders, some of the Brotherhood's opponents seem to have been going through real trauma at the personal level, particularly with respect to outsiders.

Let me cite one victim directly, someone who thinks that anyone abroad who didn't speak out against the Brotherhood while they were in power should now shut up and keep out of Egyptian affairs.

"When you'd been ignored for over a year and decide to make a "pact with
the devil" you no longer want to be distracted with "the voices" and
you wonder: why now? And where were you before? Why you seem to care all of a
sudden? And yes, when one's set of beliefs is shuffled ... one is in
psychological turmoil," the woman wrote.

An actor who hated the Mubarak regime and always advocated freedom of expression has been campaigning to close down media hostile to military intervention. When I pointed out the contradiction, he posted a term of common abuse against me and 'unfriended' me before I could respond.

I suspect that this trauma is contributing to the clamor for the security forces to disperse the pro-Morsi encampments in Cairo. The encampments are a constant reminder of the Other in their midst, of those millions of Egyptians who do not agree with them. They want us all to close our eyes while they mandate the men of violence to 'solve the problem' for them. They don't want to see the blood, they don't want to hear the screams. As they keep saying, they want 'their country' back - a country cleansed of irritating troublemakers who have ideas above their station.

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

It's a long way from Tahrir Square (about ten minutes from where I live in Cairo) to Dalston Junction (about ten minutes from where I live in London), and I never imagined that my summer sojourn in Islington would be punctuated by another outbreak of street unrest, only six months later. Egyptian bloggers have commented rather naively on the violent nature of the English 'protests' (and they are protests of a kind, even if misdirected and very poorly articulated). But it's striking how much of the public discourse in England has been equally naive, dominated by the 'law and order' lobby, the instant resort to security solutions on the part of many commentators and the emphasis on culturally determined explanations for what is largely a political problem with economic roots. Most of the people on British television are talking about discipline, immorality, parental responsibility, entitlement, consumerism, dysfunctional families, disrespect for authority and, here and there, 'black culture' (since they clearly can't pin the looting and vandalism solely on people of African origin, some of them are saying that 'black culture' has penetrated other demographic groups, with the subtext that this has undermined some theoretical upright white culture). The few who emphasize the economic roots of anarchic behaviour by the new underclass are often booed off stage. Politicians who dare to make hints in that direction have to tread carefully, for fear that they will be branded as condoning theft and thuggery.
Prime Minister David Cameron took the 'law and order' line again today. "For me, the root cause of this mindless selfishness is the same thing that I have spoken about for years. It is a complete lack of responsibility in parts of our society, people allowed to feel that the world owes something, that their rights outweigh their responsibilities, and that their actions do not have consequences.. We need to have a clearer code of values and standards that we expect people to live by, and stronger penalties if they cross the line," he said.
No doubt that will play well to the new gentry of Chipping Norton or the suits in the City, but as a serious analysis, or even as a means to dissuade potential looters from taking advantage of the next opportunity that arises, it is worthless.
In a sophisticated industrial democracy of the kind Britain claims to be, politicians have a responsibility to set the social and economic parameters that enable parents, schools and employers to bring up, educate and train well-informed and law-abiding citizens who feel they have a stake in their communities and wider society (and ideally the whole world), who are able to contribute and are rewarded fairly for their contributions. If there are thousands of young men roaming the streets without work, without regular incomes, and with no inclination or incentive to improve themselves, then the politicians must share the blame. It may have been the Thatcher government ('there is no such thing as society') or the Blair government, which shared many of Thatcher's emphasis on pleasing the middle classes, but government cannot pass the buck to parents, teachers and social workers. Other governments in Europe have done better, enabling more social mobility and working harder to protect the small minority who, for a variety of reasons, will inevitably not qualify for well-paid employment.
The looters have not helped their cause, with their offhand comments about 'nicking free stuff', taking their taxes back, 'everyone else was doing it', or sticking it to the Feds. It would be reassuring to hear them voice a coherent analysis of their plight and channel their energies into political activism that might ameliorate their circumstances. But that may be a reflection of British society's failure to encourage political participation at the base. Not enough commentators have said much about the elite's condonement of illegal activity by powerful media corporations, members of parliament with their outrageous expense claims, members of the royal family with their dubious money-making schemes, not to mention the bankers who cost the taxpayers many billions of pounds with their reckless lending practices.
To go back to Egypt, the elites in both countries have found a useful word to dismiss those who challenge their cosy world - thugs. In both cases it implies thoughtless apolitical violence by an underclass that does not deserve a hearing. Of course, if we are to live in a state of law, looters and thugs must be arrested and punished. But in the long term, unless we work to create a society without large numbers of people living on the edge, we should not be surprised if the streets erupt from time to time.

Thursday, 19 May 2011

I'm glad I'm not a working journalist who has to cover 'events' such as Obama's speech today. I remember that sinking feeling at the end of a 'major' speech when one realises that the speaker has said nothing of great significance, but without stretching the truth here and there there's no easy way to convey that in an interesting manner to a supine audience, or to satisy editors obsessed with the news cycle. As so often with these speeches, it's what's missing, the links that politicians do not make, that often carry the most significance.
Obama hasn't understood that Palestinians are just as likely to rise up against their masters, and have just as much right to do so, as any of the Arab peoples who have overthrow their old despots. The double standard inherent at so many levels of this stage must surely jump out at any informed listener.
Israeli suffering is clearly physical, that of the Palestinians merely psychological - a strange inversion of reality: "For Israelis, it has meant living with the fear that their children could get blown up on a bus or by rockets fired at their homes, as well as the pain of knowing that other children in the region are taught to hate them. For Palestinians, it has meant suffering the humiliation of occupation, and never living in a nation of their own" The 'taught to hate' line is particularly offensive - as if anyone needed guidance to find Israel's behaviour worthy of strongly adverse emotion.
The future security arrangements would be almost as one-sided as they are today. "Palestinians should know the territorial outlines of their state; Israelis should know that their basic security concerns will be met." The Palestinian state must be "non-militarised", while the United States commitment to Israel’s security is unshakeable. Nothing new there, of course.
The inclusion of democratically elected Hamas representatives in a Palestinian government of national unity "raises profound and legitimate questions for Israel – how can one negotiate with a party that has shown itself unwilling to recognize your right to exist." Strange how no one ever imagines a Palestinian veto over the inclusion of rightwing racists and expansionists in Israeli governments.
The United States has now divided the Middle East into five distinct categories of countries facing popular unrest, with different solutions for each:
Israel - full U.S. commitment to its security and international diplomatic cover for anyone who dares to criticise it. The angry Arabs here should recognize Israel, abandon resistance and go back to fruitless talks in which they have nothing to offer but further obeisance to their Israeli masters. If Israel offers them enough scraps of land to make a viable state, they should be very grateful.
Egypt and Tunisia - since they've already overthrown our old allies, we'll have to live with it and put on a brave face. Since Egypt is neighbour to Israel and has a large army, we will give it some debt relief and other economic benefits. A little growth and a show of U.S. largesse might help prevent our enemies winning democratic elections.
Bahrain (home to the Sixth Fleet) - the government here has been quite naughty but we love it really and and we are "committed to its (Bahrain's) security". The government should clean up its act and the opposition should abide by the rule of law, ignore Iranian enticements and join open-ended talks with the government.
Syria and Yemen - President Assad is not completely a lost cause and President Saleh in Yemen "needs to follow through on his commitment to transfer power." In theory, if Assad leads a transition to democracy, he can obtain rehabilitation. An easy position to take, because U.S. policy can be recalibrated at any moment to reflect the latest assessment of how Assad is doing.
Libya - Gaddafi is a lost cause, it's just a question of time. "When Gaddafi inevitably leaves or is forced from power, decades of provocation will come to an end, and the transition to a democratic Libya can proceed."
As usual, there are three main determinants in U.S. policy in all these cases:

1. What does this regime do to serve or subvert Americans interests in the Middle East? The more the regime serves, the softer the U.S. stance, and vice versa.
2. What are the chances this particular regime will be overthrown by angry Arabs? The more likely it is to fall, the harder the U.S. stance towards the ruler, and vice versa.
3. If this regime is overthrown, what is likely to take its place and to what extent would the successor regime serve U.S. interests? This is much harder to judge. The conventional wisdom is that this factor has worked in favour of President Assad, whom the Israelis might prefer to see survive.
The other factors, not specific to Arab regime change, are the chronic distortion of U.S. foreign policy by domestic lobbyists and Washington's broader regional alliances, especially with Saudi Arabia and the patrimonial states in the Gulf.

Monday, 11 April 2011

Egyptian televisions were saying this evening that Egypt's nominee to replace Amr Moussa at the head of the Arab League is former member of parliament and ruling party 'intellectual' Mustafa el-Fiki. Assuming this is true, it is the most extraordinary choice. Fiki will go down in history as the beneficiary of one of the most outrageous acts of electoral fraud committed in the parliamentarian elections of 2005. After serving in parliament as a member appointed by President Mubarak, the NDP gave him the Damanhour (Beheira province) seat in 2005, on the assumption he would win. In the event, rival candidate Gamal Hishmat of the Muslim Brotherhood won by a margin of about 25,000 votes. No problem: the election officers merely reversed the tallies, giving Fiki all Hishmat's votes and Hishmat all Fiki's votes. The snag was that one of the judges overseeing the count, the brave Noha el-Zeini, went public with a detailed account of what happened. Fiki just brazened it out, as is his style -- essentially a shameless egotist with no obvious priniciples. Since the revolution, he's been posing as an impartial analyst and public intellectual. Come to think of it, maybe he would be good at the Arab League - he could be all things to all men and curry favour with every Arab head of state simultaneously. Does anyone out there know who exactly chose him and on what grounds? Will the Arab states approve such a controversial choice? Maybe here's a chance for a non-Egyptian to jump in and end the long Egyptian monopoly of the position (broken only when the league moved to Tunis after the Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty, as far as I recall).